


Reclaiming What's Ours

by i_remain_lost



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Astapor, Blood and Injury, Dothraki, Dragons, F/F, Femslash, I wrote most of this instead of sleeping, Just kiss already!!, Meereen, Slow Burn, Stargaryen, The Faceless Men, Torture, Unsullied - Freeform, Violence, Westeros, missandei has a big-ass heart, prisoner arya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-07-11 13:50:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15973628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_remain_lost/pseuds/i_remain_lost
Summary: Arya Stark is dropped right into the hands of Daenerys Targaryen after abandoning the Faceless Men. The Mother of Dragons had doubted whether or not to end the assassin's life, but thanks to a startling revelation from her trusted and dear friend Missandei, the young killer was spared.Now the Lost Wolf of the North has promised her loyalty to the last Targaryen, offering her sword to help her retake the Iron Throne, but perhaps her sword was not the only thing she promised the rightful heir of Westeros when she bent the knee...****CURRENTLY ON HIATUS****





	1. 1: A Familiar Face

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how it goes!
> 
> Rated T for Violence.

No One stood, bound in chains, staring at the beautiful, fierce, stone-faced Daenerys Targaryen, her wrists aching from the small, tight iron shackles around her pale skin, her leg aching from an arrow wound just above the back of her knee, but she hid it away behind a trained, emotionless mask that she knew so well.

Her steel grey eyes didn’t gaze anywhere other than the Queen of Meereen’s intimidating violet irises. No One heard an intake of breath just to the right of the woman sitting comfortably on the stone throne.  
“You stand before Daenerys Stormborn of the house-”

 

“-Targaryen, The first of her name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, The Breaker of chains and the Mother of Dragons.” No One finished for the woman easily, earning a few hushed whispers between the Queen and her translator.

Daenerys finally looked to the bloody prisoner standing before her, “I see that you are familiar with me.” her voice sounding slightly impressed, but it didn’t show in her regal face.

“Who are you, boy?” The Lannister imp questioned her, wasting no time with idle conversation.

No One wore the face of a young boy to hide her identity from the public. She couldn’t risk getting noticed by other assassins trying to hunt her down, or anyone who still looked for the person she used to be before becoming No One.

When she left the House of Black and White, she almost didn’t. She didn’t want to be a faceless assassin anymore, so she escaped. But one of the other Faceless Men saw her run and chased her down to make her pay the price. She killed him, but it was almost too late. She still had the scar on her back to remind her of that night.

“I am not a boy,” she answered flatly.

“Oh? My apologies, but you do have the look of one.” snickers and whispers filled the throne room once again, but No One looked straight ahead ignoring the snickering.

Daenerys lifted a hand to silence the unwanted noise. “Who are you?” she repeated the question, growing annoyed. 

“I am No One,” she answered, seriousness weaved into every word, a little twinge of pain in her voice from the wound on the back of her thigh, a few drops of blood hitting the floor to join with the rest that spilled.

“Wait,” the imp furrowed his eyebrows in thought, then approached his queen to whisper something in her ear, the Breaker of Chains’ face unchanging.

She pulled away, glancing curiously at the girl, studying her as she casually ran a hand through her dark hair, the shackles slid down the prisoner’s wrists slightly, revealing small, ring-shaped cuts and bruises on her skin.

“My trusted Hand tells me that you might be a ‘Faceless Man’?” she tilted her head to the side, skeptical. The boy- or girl, she didn’t really know- didn’t look very impressive...  
No One didn’t reply, she only let out a long breath just before she slowly reached up to her face, pulling the boy’s face off of her own to reveal a beautiful girl with dark, long hair in a braid just below her shoulders.

Gasps and more whispers replaced the snickering and back-handed comments this time.

Daenerys’ eyes widened in shock, her folded hands slowly reaching the arm-rests of the throne that she sat on, the face of calm replaced with fright.

Missandei, on the other hand, squinted her eyes in wonder, before something clicked. That’s impossible, right? She started walking towards the young assassin, a glint of recognition in her chocolate brown eyes. A few Unsullied readied their weapons, ready to protect the Queen’s most trusted friend.

Missandei came closer until she was standing within arms reach of the prisoner. She wanted to test something, no matter how strange it might seem to everyone else. She had hope.

The Summer-Islander lifted her chin up a bit to reveal her neck to the short girl. A small, barely noticeable scar on the right side of her neck. Missandei pointed to it, “Do you recognize this?” 

No One glanced at the small scar, then to Missandei’s deep brown eyes, back and forth, the familiarity striking her like a Warhammer. “Missandei? Is that really you?” 

She reached up with her own chained hands to touch the scar, but an Unsullied knocked her in the stomach with his spear side, getting her to drop her chained hands and limp a small step back, afraid that the youthful assassin would harm her, but Missandei reached a hand out to steady the girl.

She looks so… young.

Daenerys rose from where she sat and made way to join the two women at the bottom of the stone stairs, Jorah following behind, his hand on the hilt of his sword, aware that the person his Queen was approaching was a member of the most deadly and sneaky assassin guild in the world.

“How do you two know each other?” Daenerys broke up the moment between her translator and the stranger with her curiosity.

“It would be best to speak about it in private, Your Grace.” Missandei’s response was silent so only Daenerys and No One could hear.

Daenerys nodded her head but remained suspicious. “Very well. Put the prisoner back in the cell.”

Two Unsullied soldiers stepped forward and grabbed No One by the arms, yanking her away from their queen, No One wincing from the sudden movement.

“Don’t hurt her!” Missandei called to them, but the Unsullied paid no attention to her, only obeying the Queen’s orders.

No One did her best to keep up with the tall soldiers, but with her aching wound, she was pretty much dragged away swiftly. Missandei looked behind her and followed Daenerys out of the throne room side by side, stealing one last glance at the young woman that she once knew.  
Hello again, Arry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think, and if there's any suggestions, let me know those too!


	2. Arry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missandei tells Daenerys how she and 'Arry' know each other, and decide to pay the Ex-Faceless man a visit, but it takes a turn for the worse, but allows Daenerys to get a peak behind the mask of this mysterious warrior.

Daenerys still couldn’t shake the image of that girl pulling someone’s face away from her own. The prisoner was a boy, and then in two seconds flat, that… that child was someone completely different.

She had heard stories about the notorious Faceless Men, but she never knew if they were actually real or not, since she just couldn’t believe someone could ever be that stealthy, as to change into a different person completely. She was also told that Faceless Men didn’t just give up their identities freely to just anyone, so she wondered why the girl was almost… eager to reveal her true face.

Daenerys sat in a chair on the corner of her room, rolling a beautiful metal, dragon-shaped ring around on her finger. “How do you know the prisoner?” She looked up to her dear friend. 

Missandei didn’t like talking about it, but she knew her head-strong Queen wanted answers, so she sucked in a nervous breath, and began to speak.  
“When I was just a common slave back in Astapor, Before Kraznys bought me to be his translator, I would scour the markets for whatever my master wanted,” she took a pause to sit down across from the Silver Queen, her legs becoming shakier by the minute.

“One day, a quarrel broke out among merchants. They fought with their fists until one pulled out his sword, running it through the other. I somehow got caught between them as everyone was hurrying away, and the merchant held a knife to my throat, threatening to kill me if I told anyone what I had seen. But before he could kill me, Arry snuck up behind him and slit his throat. As he fell,” She showed Daenerys the little scar on her neck for the second time that day.  
“The most he did was Knik my skin. She saved my life that day, Your Grace.”

“I see,” Daenerys stopped spinning her ring around and folded her hands on her lap. “Do you know how old she is?” She couldn’t help but feel sad for the girl. 

She looked so young, yet she was chained up in the dungeons of Meereen. She had been injured that day(not severely, thank the Gods), and if this was all true then she was one of the most deadly assassins in the Seven Kingdoms, which probably meant that she saw some things nobody her age should ever have to see...

“I do not know, but she can’t be more than seven and ten, Your Grace.” Missandei looked to the ground, her too realizing just how young her savior was now that it had come out of her mouth.

“Your Grace, may I ask you something?” She spoke up again.

Daenerys nodded her head in confirmation.

“What crimes has she committed?” Missandei wanted to know just what her old friend had done, but she also didn’t know if she could stomach the truth.

“She tried to kill a woman in the streets this morning. An Unsullied happened to see the whole thing from this very tower. He shot her in the thigh to stop her before she could.”

Missandei’s eyes widened slightly. “I don’t mean to defend her just because I knew her, but I’m sure she had some sort of reason. From what I know, the Faceless Men only kill certain people. They have contracts, and are supposedly punished severely if they kill someone who they weren’t assigned to.” She was trying to make sense of it all, but one thing stuck out very clearly in her mind.  
“And that’s not the Arry I knew,” she whispered the last words softly. With the emotion she was feeling, it felt almost dangerous to speak any higher than that.

“Do you wish to see her tonight?” Daenerys reached over the large wooden table and put a hand over her most trusted friend’s.

The Summer Islander looked up into her violet eyes, nodding her head for a response, seeing as how the small lump forming in her throat wouldn’t let her talk.

***

“Let us through.” Daenerys’ voice changed completely from when she spoke privately with her friends. This time her voice was filled with authority and power. The two Unsullied guards moved aside.

As they walked along the stone walls, a sudden scream caused them to cover their ears, every Unsullied guard they could see readied their spears.

The familiarity of the scream commanded Missandei’s feet to run to the noise, Daenerys following with an Unsullied soldier protecting them from behind. Missandei stopped faster than the most well-trained Dothraki horse once she saw what was happening behind the bars that belonged to her old friend’s cell.

No One was being held down by a Dothraki soldier, screaming and groaning in pain as another, rather large Dothraki whipped her with a studded horse whip as she lay, barebacked on the cold stone floor, blood covering any bit of skin she had showing.

She was trying to kick the brute away, but the other man that held her down was too strong.  
Daenerys gasped at the sight. “Stop! Stop that now!” she banged on the iron bars to grab the Dothraki man’s attention, but the girl’s screaming was too loud. “Open this door!” she commanded the jailer, who looked quite enthralled at the sight of the half naked girl.

“NOW!!” The Dragon Mother screamed at him. Thankfully, the jailer sobered up at her tone, opening the cell door with one last look at the topless assassin.

One Unsullied charged in and yanked the large man away, knocking his companion in the head with his shield, causing him to release the young woman’s thrashing legs.

Daenerys pushed past him and knelt down by the whimpering assassin, wiping away stray hairs from her face to try to calm the injured girl. “Shhh, it’s alright, you’re alright. He’s gone.” She did her best to look anywhere other than the lashings on the prisoner’s back. 

“Leave me.” The Faceless Man whispered weakly. She started to reach under herself to cover her bare chest, her cheeks on fire with embarrassment.

Daenerys flashed back to when she first visited Astapor. Walking along the streets, stopping to help a slave on the Walk of Punishment drink water, and the man refused, wanting more than anything to die.  
If the girl thought she would leave her alone like this, she was dead wrong.

Daenerys looked behind her to see the Dothraki men pinned to the floor by her guards, their spears digging into the fur on his back, shouting at the warriors to stay still. She didn’t see Missandei, assuming she left, not being able to stand the sight of the girl like this.

She ripped the pristine, white cloak off of her shoulders and draped it over the small girl to cover her bloody body. “Help me get her up,” she commanded the Unsullied that stood by the open cell door.

The soldier sat her up and let her lean on his shield, but her legs were too weak to support herself on their own, so Daenerys threw her arm around her to help No One walk, the girl groaning at the painful stretch. 

Daenerys led her out of the dungeons, No One throwing her head back in agony as her wounded back burned and stung. Thank the Gods it was night time since everyone was asleep. She couldn’t take the girl to the city’s healers. Because of their culture, they would refuse to help her since she was a prisoner. She made a quick decision to turn left.

To her room. 

The two eventually made their way to the Queen’s Quarters. Once the Dragon Mother got to the bed, she laid No One on her stomach to examine the assassin’s injuries. She resisted the urge to be sick as she found out how many lashings she had taken. Her back looked like a dragon used her as a chew-toy. She shook away her nausea and rushed to her drawers to grab the girl a new tunic to cover herself with.

No One cried out in pain as Daenerys tried to set her up on the bed. “I can do it,” she muttered as she reached for the tunic in the Dragon’s hand.  
Daenerys let her put it on, helping her in places that she couldn’t reach without crying out in pain.

“Thank y-you.” No One whispered, not as much pain in her voice now that she was covered and a little more comfortable. The girl slowly lifted herself off of the bed, her face twisting in pain, and started towards the door, but Daenerys stopped her with a hand to her bloody shoulder, the new tunic already becoming damp with crimson.

“Where do you think you're going?” 

“Back to my cell, Your Grace.” was her strained response. The killer was trying very hard not to let her agony show. No One had made it this far acting strong, and she wouldn’t lose now. 

Daenerys was absolutely shocked. “You’ve almost been whipped to death! I will not let you go back down there,” she took the girl’s unusually cold, shaky hand and rubbed her knuckles with her thumb. “You need help; a healer, Arry.”

The girl tensed up and spun her head to look at Daenerys. “Where did you hear that name?”

Daenerys was confused by the sudden shock in the girl’s face. “Missandei told me about the time that you met. The time that you saved her in the markets in Astapor.”

“Oh,” she sighed, sounding relieved.

Daenerys led the prisoner back to her bed, sitting down with her, convincing her to stay. She started to lift up the back of her shirt, but stopped once she saw No One tense up again. “May I?”

No One looked into her violet eyes, self-consciousness spreading through her young, sweat-drenched, pale face.

“Please?” she ran a hand down the assassin’s loose, messy, brown braid, the ends crusted with blood. “It’s alright, trust me. I know how it feels.” She really could sympathize with this girl.

The assassin relaxed, allowing the ashen Queen to asses her wounds. She carefully peeled the new shirt off, watching the girl’s face the entire time, the nervousness growing on her angled features. Daenerys’ eyes widened as she found old scars hidden underneath the fresh, irritated lashings. “Have you been whipped before?” she couldn’t hold back the question. 

“Yes.” she hesitated but spoke the truth.

“Why did he whip you?” Daenerys realized she probably sounded like a worried mother, but she had to know.

“Because I refused to lie with him,” she whispered, folding into herself, trying to hide her humiliation.

Daenerys shifted herself to sit across her. “How old are you?”

No One took in a deep breath to ease the agony in her back, but also to brace herself for the Targaryen Queen’s reaction. “I haven’t seen my eighteenth summer yet, Your Grace.”

Daenerys opened her mouth to speak, but closed it immediately, too surprised by her youth to form simple words.

The only thing Daenerys could think about was how young she was. The silver Queen knew the girl wasn’t that old, just not that youthful. Then she brought something up that hadn’t been spoken of yet, “Is Arry really your name?”

No One stopped breathing. What in seven hells I’m I going to say? I can’t say I’m No One. They know that’s not true. I know that’s not true. She swallowed nervously, saying the only thing that came to her mind…  
“I cannot tell you, Your Grace.” she looked down and traced a thin scar going down the tip of her thumb, ending just above the wrist, getting more uncomfortable by the second. “You will most certainly hate me.” she knew that the Targaryens were taught to hate the Starks from birth, and though Daenerys seemed different from her ancestors, she didn’t want to take any chances.

Daenerys gripped ‘Arry’s’ hands tighter, forcing her to look into her violet pools. “That’s ridiculous! Please, I promise I won’t hate you, I just want to know who you are.”

When the girl looked away in shame again, the determined queen tried to convince her once again. “You saved my dearest friend’s life, and I can’t possibly thank you if I don’t know who you really are.”

No One stood up to try and walk off the burning and stinging in her skin, the slight limp giving Daenerys a worried feeling.

“You promise?” She turned to Daenerys, her labored breathing filling the silence.

“I give you my word.” she stood and put a hand on the assassin’s arm, hot from the dragon’s blood running through her veins.

It’s simple, just say ‘I’m Arya Stark’, it’s not that hard. She thought to herself. No One opened her mouth to speak, but blood loss and exhaustion took over her, forcing her to the floor, the darkness swallowing her faster than the swing of a sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it any good?  
> Let me know what you want to happen in the future of this story, and let me know of any questions you all have... I love the feedback!  
> Arya-17 very close to 18  
> Daenerys- Just turned 21  
> Missandei- 20 almost 21
> 
> New chapter very, very soon.
> 
> -L


	3. My Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No One reveals why she left the House of Black and White, and does something shocking in the process.

No One woke up in the Queen's Quarters with a warm hand on her’s. The warmth felt so good against her ice-cold skin that she involuntarily held the hand tighter, squeezing it to focus on something other than the throbbing pain coursing through her body.

“Arry? Your Grace, she’s awake!” Missandei exclaimed, calling to the queen across the room.

Daenerys rushed to her side, practically jumping out of her chair. “Wonderful! The food should be here soon, we can all eat together.”

No One noticeably perked up at the mention of food, her healing body craving nutrients, but she stayed silent. 

Missandei stood, allowing Daenerys to take her place in the seat next to the bed. No One pulled on the silky white sheets to help her sit up on the bed. With help from Daenerys, the assassin was able to stand up and stretch her legs, careful not to irritate the slashes covering her back, and the arrow wound on her thigh.

Missandei pulled up a chair for her to sit as a handmaiden brought in the food, setting it on the table. Daenerys thanked her and gestured for the faceless girl to sit across from them.

No One’s mouth watered from the smell of fresh bread, steak, and various other vegetables. She wanted nothing more than to shove the delicious food in her mouth, but since she was eating with the Queen of Meereen and her old friend, she sat down and waited, until Daenerys softly grabbed her hand to get her attention.

“When was the last you’ve eaten?”  
No One looked away from the food, knowing what gave her away. Do I tell her the truth? “A week, Your Grace.”

The queen and her translator gasped in unison. “Arry! You need to eat, it doesn’t matter who your company is, we won’t judge you.” Missandei pushed the plate of food closer to the child, beckoning for her to eat. 

No One slowly took a piece of bread and took a bite, swallowing the piece immediately, not bothering to savor the food, only wanting to fill her empty stomach.

Missandei and Daenerys smiled at the joy and relief in the faceless girl’s grey eyes as she ate, her small frame noticeably becoming stronger with every swallow.

“Kirimvose.” No One thanked them in High Valyrian, surprising the two women.

“You speak Valyrian?” Daenerys asked her.

“I learned it in Bravos, Your Grace,” she responded, taking a drink from her glass.

“As a Faceless Man?” Missandei spoke up, trying to get to know the assassin better.

“Yes. I wanted to learn it so I could speak w-” she stopped before she could reveal her secret to them. Seven Hells, I’ve gone this far, might as well.  
“I wanted to learn it so I could speak to you,” she said shyly to Daenerys, confusion spreading through the dragon’s beautiful face.

She pushed away any questions Missandei and Daenerys showed in their eyes and continued.  
“I was sent by the Faceless Men to kill a handmaiden trying to assassinate you. I would’ve killed her if it wasn't for that guard’s damn arrow.” she massaged her thigh, wincing from the small sting in her now-bandaged knee.

“So you saved my life as well?” Daenerys concluded, her respect for the girl growing with every word.

“No, Your Grace. I was shot down before I could kill her. I’m truly sorry.” she looked to the ground in shame. “She’s still out there somewhere.”

Daenerys was at a loss for words. Sensing this, Missandei cut in to lighten the mood. “Where have you been for the past two years, Arry?”

No One didn’t look up, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. “I was training with the Faceless Men.”

Daenerys regained her voice, “May I ask you a question, Arry?”

No One finally looked up to the Silver queen, straightening her sore back to look just a bit taller. “Queens don’t need permission, Your Grace.”

“Can you change your face again? Like you did in the throne room?”

No One nodded her head and stood up with a small groan. She was about to put her previous face back on but hesitated. “Are you sure you want to see?” She didn’t want to frighten them. Watching someone change their face up close was not something you necessarily saw every day.

“We’re sure,” Daenerys reassured the girl with a nod.

No One continued, reaching up and spreading the face across her own, feeling the slight sting in her temple from the magic.  
As she moved her hand away and looked to the two women with a different face, she couldn’t help but feel slightly amused at the looks on their faces, though she didn’t show it.

Daenerys rose and walked over to the girl, feeling the face of the boy, amazement covering her face. “You-you're taller.” the Dragon Mother stuttered, causing the three of them to burst into laughter. 

Arry was a few inches taller but still smaller than the Mother of Dragons. “Yes I am, Your Grace.” she smiled as she peeled the boy’s face away to reveal her own once again, shrinking back down to her normal height.

Astonishment still stuck on their faces, Daenerys tilted her head in puzzlement. “Does it ever hurt to put a face on?”

“Only a small sting, then it is done,” she replied casually.

Daenerys opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated, not wanting to spook the girl. “What’s your name? I cannot thank you if I don’t know your name.”

“In the Faceless Men, we swear everything to the God of Death, including our identities. We are all No One,” she responded with the all-too-well practiced sentence. 

“What was the name your parents gave you?” the Silver queen reworded, hoping for the assassin’s true identity. 

No One started to think about Arya’s life. Her father, mother, brothers, and sister. About Winterfell and Mycha, Siryo and The Hound, The Frey house, remembering the dreaded Red Wedding. She remembered when Jon gave her Needle, how happy she was. That memory kept her from truly becoming No One. The sheer pain of being Arya Stark.  
She breathed in deeply, ready to give the Targaryen Queen her true name, who she was, what she was. “Your Grace, before I became No One, I was Arya Stark of Winterfell.”

Silence swallowed everything in the large room, nobody even breathed. Arya herself shocked herself by telling the two women her name so freely as if her birth name meant absolutely nothing to her like she was compelled to do it.

“A- Ar- Arya S-Stark is dead.” Missandei stood, breaking the silence like glass.

“I didn’t die, I ran away from King’s Landing after Meryn Trant failed to kill me,” she stated as calm as possible. “A man smuggled me into a band of Night’s Watchmen headed for the wall. He disguised me as a boy, that’s how I got out of the city.”

Daenerys sat on her bed and regained her breath, not taking her eyes off of the Northern girl, so intrigued by her life story. 

“We never made it to the wall.” She looked into space for a second, remembering all that happened on that night. “We were ambushed by a group of Lannister soldiers and taken to Harrenhal, where we were made into slaves, but I escaped with a few others.”

“Go on.” Daenerys didn’t want to push her, but her curiosity got the better of her in this particular situation.

“I got taken by the Brotherhood Without Banners, but I escaped them too, only to be kidnapped by The Hound.” Arya resisted the urge to growl just at that man’s name.  
“He wanted to take me to the Twin’s for ransom to my mother and brother, but when we got there…” The killer looked down from where she sat, the memory almost too much for her. “I was too late.”

Missandei gasped, covering her mouth. “You were there?”

Arya nodded, shoving her sweaty hands into her pockets. “They cut Robb’s head off and sewed his Direwolf’s head on in his place, then tied his body onto a horse, showing him off through the entire town, chanting ‘King in the North!’, then threw my mother’s body into the river.” Arya wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole.

Daenerys wanted to stop the girl from torturing herself with the gruesome memories but also wanted to hear more, needed to hear more.

“I eventually made my way to Bravos where I-if you will-met Missandei,” she pointed in Missandei’s direction before continuing. “And became a Faceless Man.”

Daenerys struggled to understand everything that was being told to her, the lie she had been told that Arya Stark was dead.

She allowed a Stark into her home, a person she had been taught to hate since birth.

But she couldn’t hate Arya, she just couldn’t. The girl had been beaten and almost killed just to save her life. Her thoughts cleared just enough to hear the rest of the conversation.

“When the word had gotten out that someone wanted to kill you, I volunteered to assassinate the woman.” her tone turned from serious to sad once again. “I didn’t want to see you dead.”

“Why’s that?” Daenerys questioned, still a bit taken aback by her story.  
Arya took a deep breath before taking a few nervous steps towards the Targaryen Queen, slowly lowering herself onto one knee, ignoring the stinging. “Because I wouldn’t be able to do this, Your Grace,”

Missandei’s eyes widened, realizing what Arya was about to do. 

“I, Arya Stark of Winterfell, Daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Stark, pledge my sword to Daenerys Stormborn, of the House Targaryen, the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms. I will protect you with my life, my sword, my mind, my heart. I will fall on my sword if you command it. I will slay anyone that dares stand in your way as you claim the Iron Throne, the seat you were born to take,”  
She looked up to Daenerys, slightly surprised to see a tear roll down her cheek.

“If you will have me… My Queen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how it is. Tell me about anything in the plot you'd like to see, and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Just to be clear, a small part as to why Arya bent the knee is because she wants to see Daenerys on the Iron Throne. Why, I will reveal in later chapters.. NO SPOILERS from me, suckers!
> 
> -L


	4. Bloody Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys is hesitant about accepting Arya into her army, and Tyrion suggests she watch her Faceless guest spar. Daenreys picks someone special to fight her guest. Arya's opponent has no clue what's coming for him...

“I can’t just let the girl fight for me, she’s too young! Not to mention she already has a family that she could return to.” Daenerys explained, sitting in the council room with her Hand. “A Highborn family.”

“I understand, Your Grace, but the girl did bend the knee willingly, and I would also be nervous if a person who was only six and ten offered to kill for me, but having a Stark on your side could help you tremendously to gain the North’s support in taking the Iron Throne…” he dropped his voice to a whisper, seeming almost afraid that anyone else could hear. “... Especially with a Stark that skilled.”

Daenerys took a small sip of her wine, letting it wash right down her throat, the warm feeling in her stomach helping her relax just the tiniest bit. “I just- when I look at her, the only thing I can see is a woman who doesn’t understand the risk of being my sworn protector. Many of my highly deadly soldiers die every day fighting for me, and I can’t stand the thought of a child’s blood on my hands. I cannot let my Queensguard be a supposedly ‘dead’ Stark.”

Tyrion considered her words, taking a huge swig of his wine before responding. “Why don’t you watch her fight? Allow her to train with Grey Worm or one of the Dothraki to see how she handles herself?” he suggested. “Maybe it will help you better determine your final answer.” 

The Dragon Mother twirled her finger around the edge of her glass to help her think. She was far too young to be her Queensguard or to fight for her in any way, but having a Faceless Man as part of her army would help tremendously to take the Iron Throne, and to help gain the help of the North. She shook her head and stood, walking to the door, but turned to him before exiting. “Bring her out to training grounds at noon today, and give her back the weapons the guards took away. She’ll be more comfortable using her own blades.” 

Tyrion grinned and chugged the rest of his wine, bowing his head in respect. “Right away, My Queen.”

* * *

The sound of steel clashing together didn’t help distract the ashen-haired queen from her anxieties. She was about to watch Arya Stark fight with one of her strongest Dothraki soldiers just to see if she would be fit for her Queensguard. As she repeated the thought in her mind, she felt almost selfish about it all.

Daenerys was thankfully pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of Missandei and Arya walking towards her, laughing and joking with each other.

Daenerys noticed Arya now had a skinny little sword held at her side by a leather belt. She was still wearing the worn and scrappy clothes that she had first met Daenerys in, the dried brown bloodstain from her arrow wound still present on her pants.

“Why aren’t you wearing any armor?” Daenerys chimed in on their conversation, worry woven through her usually calm voice.

“With all due respect, My Queen, I won’t need it,” she replied while folding her hands behind her back.

“And none of the armor that we have will fit her,” Missandei added, grinning in amusement.

As Daenerys and Missandei tried their hardest to not laugh, Arya looked down in embarrassment. “It’s not my fault no one makes armor this big!” she put her hands around her waist to show how slim her body was.

“The armorsmiths probably aren’t accustomed to dressing teenagers,” Missandei added.

Once the laughter stopped, Arya glanced over Daenerys’ shoulder, looking for a training partner, someone who wasn’t already fighting someone else. “Who will I have the pleasure of training with, Your Grace?”

Daenerys smiled and pointed to the large Dothraki man. She quickly recognized him as the man who whipped her that day in the dungeons for her refusal of sex. “That is Janreo.”

Arya didn’t take her angry stare away from the man. “Can I kill him?” she whispered just loud enough for the two women to hear.

“Just rough him up a bit,” Daenerys told her. She saw the anger in Arya’s eyes, just as she had expected. She wanted Arya to heal a little more before this fight, but Tyrion insisted that as a former Faceless Man she would be ‘just fine.’

“Yes, Your Grace.” Arya bowed before stepping into the view of the man.

Janreo smirked as he saw her, his hungry stare at her breasts made Daenerys angrier than she wanted to admit. He unsheathed his arakh while shouting a few insults at her, some about her height, some about her body.

“Please be careful, Arya,” Daenerys called to her as she walked over to the Dothraki, hoping she would be able to hear.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace. I’ve had worse,” she replied with a small hint of a grin.

Arya unsheathed Needle, earning another snicker and insult from Janreo. A lot of blood has been spilled on this sword, Arya thought as she sized her opponent up. What’s wrong with just a little more...

Daenerys hesitated for a second before commanding them to start, concern showing in her shaking hands.

Janreo screamed a loud war cry before he charged at her, swinging his curved blade at her neck. She ducked and rolled on the ground to the other side with ease, pushing away the returned presence of stinging in her whole body. 

Arya kicked him in the back of his leg hard, forcing him onto his knees. With the position he was in, she took the opportunity to stand and regain her stance. Janreo picked himself back up, backing away to make more room between him and the girl, more room to swing his massive curved blade.

He ran at her again, swinging his weapon at her before she could get away, slashing her across the stomach, cutting her tunic to reveal her abs.

Janreo looked very proud of himself, and that’s just what Arya wanted. It left him vulnerable for just a second, and that was all she needed to take him down. She saw it from the start. His pride was his biggest weakness.

Daenerys gasped, about to stop the session, but thought otherwise as Arya blocked a side swing with her small, but strong sword, reaching around to his arm and kicking him as hard as she could in his manhood, her adrenaline giving her the strength she needed to twist his arm around, cutting his braid off in one fluid motion with the inner curve of his arakh, still held tightly in his hand.

Daenerys and Missandei stopped the fight, stepping right over a fuming Janreo, rushing over to Arya, now sheathing Needle after her command. Once her heart rate went down the pain returned to her back and leg, as well as the cut in her stomach.

Arya watched as Janreo picked up his severed braid with a look of anger and a hint of shame. As he stomped away from the bloody woman after muttering a few insults at her.

“That looks bad! Come, let's get you to a maester.” Missandei glanced worriedly at the growing red spot on her torn clothing.

“I’m alright Missandei, trust me.” Arya looked down at her cut. It wasn’t deep enough to do any lasting damage, but it sure as hells wasn’t a cat-scratch. “I just need a new tunic. I can get one in the markets.”

Daenerys scoffed. “That’s absurd. I can get you new clothes sent to your room.” she put a hand on Arya’s back, nudging her inside. “Go to the maester with Missandei and at least check the wound,” she ordered her with a firm tone, leaving no room for anymore argument. 

Arya gave up, bowing respectively, but not too low to upset her fresh cut. “You’re too kind, Your Grace.”

“Thank you. Now please, go before you bleed out on the ground.” she teased before waving them off to the maester’s quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me, how was it?
> 
> A question I was asked was "So now all of Meereen knows she's Arya Stark?"  
> The only people who know Arya's true identity is Daenerys, Missandei, and Tyrion.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I'm open to suggestions!  
> -L


	5. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys treats Arya's wound from her fight with Janero, and the two share a little moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, kids.

Daenerys relaxed patiently in Arya’s room sitting on the bed, just looking around the dark space. She felt almost a little surprised that the room was so neat and proper.

The bed was nicely made, the two chairs were tucked underneath the small table on across from her, the tiny dresser had nothing in it but dust and the small pitcher of wine hadn’t been touched, suggesting that she hadn’t so much as sipped it.

Arya wasn’t exactly the fanciest person that she had met. She always had a long, messy braid down her back and scrubby clothes with holes in them and a few blood stains on the legs and the sleeves.

Speaking of clothes, by the Dragon Queen’s side was a nicely folded pair of pants and a nice a grey tunic. Daenerys picked out the grey clothes for her to resemble the house she had been born into, perhaps to make her feel a little more welcome in the city so far from Arya’s true home.

She spun her head around as the door slowly opened to show the shirtless Stark, wrappings bound together to cover her breasts. She closed the door, her back turned to Daenerys, leaning her forehead on the door. While she didn’t know she was here, for a few moments Daenerys was able to see the scars on her pale, toned back, as well as some healing ones from the day in the dungeons. They were doing well; the whip marks almost closed.

“Everything alright?” Daenerys questioned, making herself known.

Arya turned her head to the figure in her room, dropping onto her knee once she saw the woman. “My Queen! My apologies. I did not expect you.”

Daenerys stood and came closer to the kneeling Stark, bending down to grip her arm, pulling her onto her other foot. “It’s alright. What did the maester say about your wound?”

Arya looked down at her stomach to see Daenerys’ warm fingers tracing reddened skin. She stepped away slowly to sit on the nearest chair, folding her arms to cover herself. “The maester said it’s not deep, but I should get stitches if I want it to heal faster.”

Daenerys turned over to the bed, grabbing some thread and a little needle. “Good thing I brought these.” she held them up to show her company.

“Oh, I can do it myself. Stitching wounds are beneath a Queen.” Arya stated.

“Would you dare defy your queen?” Daenerys argued, her voice becoming just the smallest bit angered. 

“No, Your Grace.” Arya gave up, getting up and slowly lying down on the bed, a wave of self-consciousness spreading through her as she found herself half-naked and bloody in front of the person she had turned away from the most deadly group of assassins for.

“Good.” Daenerys smiled at her small victory and sat down next to the girl, gently putting a hand on her stomach. “Relax.”

Arya relaxed as she was told, watching as Daenerys brought the needle to her skin, careful not to move too much.

A little while later, Daenerys had finished stitching her up, and she couldn’t help but put her hand nicely on Arya’s many marking that littered her body, telling of a violent past. “Where did you get these scars?”

Arya looked down to see her queen running her finger over the three stab wounds on her lower abdomen. “Another Faceless Man tried to end my life because I killed someone that I wasn’t supposed to,” Arya remembered she wasn’t breathing because of the burning in her chest.

Daenerys didn’t take her eyes away from the scars that marked her body, only tracing the others that covered her stomach. “Who did you kill?” she sounded almost scared to ask the assassin.

“Meryn Trant, Your Grace.” 

“Why?” 

“Because he killed my dancing instructor, Syrio Forel, and he beat my sister for years on Joffrey’s orders.” her answer was through gritted teeth and full of anger.

Daenerys stopped her hand, letting it rest on her stomach. “I’m sorry.” 

“Queen’s don’t apologize.” Arya sat herself up, coming very close to the queen’s beautiful, porcelain face.

Daenerys and Arya just looked into each other's eyes for a few moments, studying the many layers of strength and fierceness in their steel grey and violet orbs.

Daenerys glanced at the girl’s young, angled features that made her more wolf than anything else. She found herself inching closer to Arya involuntarily. _What am I doing?_

Arya started to breathe heavily, Daenerys putting a hand on her chest and lowering her back onto the bed. The Mother of Dragons sitting on the edge of the Stark girl’s bed leaning over her, and the Stark girl trying her very hardest not to let the tension cut her entire body in half.

“M-my Queen-”

“Daenerys is just fine.” Arya was interrupted by the violet-eyed ruler inching just the smallest bit closer.

“D-Daenerys,” Arya corrected herself. “I can’t-” she moved to sit up, but too quickly by mistake, causing a fresh wave of dizziness to come over her.

Daenerys snapped out of her trance and backed away slightly nervous, standing quickly to grab the grey tunic beside Arya’s feet, unfolding it and showing it to her savior. “I thought you would like a change of clothes.”

Arya focused her steel grey eyes on the shirt in front of her, glancing at the beautiful stitching and light color. “I couldn’t wear something so… fine, m-Daenerys.”

“Oh don’t be foolish!” Daenerys chuckled at the young woman’s ridiculousness. “Unless you’d like to walk around the city without a tunic.” she teased with a small smirk.

Arya’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “No, your Grace!”

“Good,” she stated before handing the piece of clothing over to the nervous Stark. 

“Thank you.”

Arya stood as she put the soft shirt on, pulling her braid out of the neckline. She about to walk out when Daenerys called to her, confused, wondering what was wrong. “Where are you going?”  
“I was going to train, Your Grace,” she stated calmly.

Daenerys rolled her eyes. “You need to rest before I find you passed out in the halls.” she grinned, eyeing the dried blood and dirt on her guest’s unclean, unwashed body. “And maybe a bath.”

Arya allowed a smile to grow on her face. “Yes, my Queen.” she bowed her head in respect. “It would appear so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The torture, I know...  
> Let me know how you liked it, as well as any lovely suggestions!
> 
> -L


	6. Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys talks with Tyrion to decide whether or not she should accept Arya as a Queensguard.
> 
> Missandei and Arya share a heartfelt moment.

“So?” Tyrion raised his eyebrows, expecting an answer from his queen. “Have you accepted her as your Queensguard yet, your Grace?”

“Arya Stark is strong and an amazing fighter, but Jon Snow is the King in the North, and I will lose any chance at having him side with me if he finds out that his little sister is here in Meereen with me, not in Westeros.” Daenerys pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “I don’t think Lord Snow even knows she’s still alive.”

Tyrion turned to look out the balcony of Meereen’s largest pyramid, enjoying the slight breeze. “My Queen, she bent the willingly to you. Lord Snow doesn’t own her. She can make her own choices.”

Daenerys was getting aggravated. “I know he doesn’t own her, but I don’t either!” she bawled her hands into fists. “She is of royal blood, not some commoner. She knelt before me, a person she was taught to hate, to spit upon!”

“Your Grace-”

“My family has slaughtered her’s for hundreds of years! We have been in a constant war!” she interrupted her Hand. “For all I know, she could be here to kill me for revenge, then run back North.” Daenerys inhaled and exhaled deeply to try to calm her nerves. 

“Your Grace,” Tyrion tried once more. “This could be the alliance that we need to break that extensive chain of hatred between your House’s.”

“If I’m going to take the Iron Throne then I want full support of the North. I don’t want to force them to their knees,” she explained.

“Oh, trust me, my Queen, the North would do just about anything to see my sister off the throne.” the imp chuckled.

“This is not a laughing matter, Lord Tyrion.” Daenerys scolded her advisor. 

“My apologies, Your Grace.” he sobered up. “I’m just saying, it might be a risk, a huge risk, but it just might be worth it.”

The Mother of Dragons straightened herself a tad. He could be right. She could accept Arya Stark into her ranks as a Queensguard based on her sharp mind and combat skills, but risk losing any trust with the North for keeping the knowledge of their princess’s survival.

Or reject the Stark, reject her swear of fealty, and send her back to the little bit of family she had left, and try and get the North to bend the knee.

She had to choose.

* * *

Arya sat with Missandei in her room on the bed, letting her friend braid her hair back. “The last time I saw you your hair was only neck-length.” The Naathi stated, gently pulling the loose strands into her palms.

“The last time I saw you, you only spoke thirteen languages.” Arya teased back.

Missandei smiled. “Do you still remember any of the languages I taught you?”

“Of course,” Arya responded in the Ghiscari Empire dialect with a smirk.

She smiled wider at the perfect words rolling off of the girl’s tongue. Missandei remembered teaching a younger Arya the dead language a few years ago. She was surprised that her friend remembered at all. Suddenly she frowned. “You were so young.” she couldn’t stop the sentence from falling from her lips.

Arya tensed up. She never told her friend how old she was that day after the quarrel in the markets, and she never asked. “I-” she tried to say anything to break the silence, but found no words to speak.

“You could’ve told me, Arry.” she finished her little braid, tugging on the bottom slightly to test the strength of it.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” she admitted, standing up as quick as she could without her healing back flaring up again.

Missandei followed her savior, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I will always be worried about you! You saved my life, Arry. I am in debt to you.” 

Arya grabbed the hand on her shoulder and held it tightly, looking up into Missandei’s deep brown eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. I saved you, then you saved me.”

“When did I save you?” Missandei asked, confused.

"After I stopped that man from hurting you, you were the one who slipped me some food and water before I had to go back to the Faceless Men, and you were the only friend I had. The only person I could talk to like a normal girl of six and ten." Arya smiled, grabbing her other hand.

"And when you gave me that little wolf carving for my name-day because I said it was my favorite animal?"

Missandei chuckled. "At least now I know why you actually like wolves."

Arya grinned and let go of Missandei's hands, walking over to her small dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out a tiny object, hiding it in her hands. She came back over to her confused friend. "I never left this." she opened her palm to reveal a small carved wooden wolf cub with a tiny chip out of its ear.

Missandei gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. She immediately wrapped her arms around her beloved friend, feeling the ex-assassin hugging her back. "I missed you, you know."

"I wanted to return and get you out of that awful man's possession, and I'm sorry I couldn't." Arya pulled back, looking up once more to her friend, tears in the translator's eyes.

"It's alright. Daenerys got me out before anything truly awful happened." she smiled sadly.

"Remind me to thank her for that as well," Arya smirked.

A knock at the door caused Missandei to jump. The Stark calmly put the wooden wolf cub in her pocket and walked to the door, opening it slowly to reveal an Unsullied soldier.

"The Queen wishes for the one known as 'Arry' in her presence at dinner this evening," He spoke in his own tongue, but Arya understood perfectly well. After all, her best friend did speak nineteen languages.

"She will have her wish." she bowed her head respectfully to the soldier before he departed.

Arya turned back to her friend, the Naathi's hands folded behind her back, her face looked struck with... terror.

"Missandei? What's wrong?" The young woman asked her company.

Missandei lowered her head. "Forgive me. I have forgotten your status, My Lady."

Arya remembered how Missandei was raised. She had been speaking to her casually this whole time, completely ignoring her title as Arya Stark. If this was Astapor, she likely would've been on the Walk of Punishment. 

"Missandei, I'm no Lady. I fear if you don't treat me normally I might just go insane." Arya stated, trying to help her friend understand. "Okay? I am Arya. Arry. Your friend, not your master or your Princess."

Missandei looked back to her friend once more, snapping out of her formality. "I forgot," she replied simply, embarrassed.

"It's okay. Now let's get ready for that dinner. I like sleeping with both eyes closed." she changed the subject, smirking.

Missandei laughed out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I think I'm going to upload chapters at least three times a week, so about every other day or so.
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!  
> -L


	7. My Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya attends the dinner with Missandei and Daenerys, Daenerys has a question for the Stark and something else very surprising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! I spent the day in Vermont, so I couldn't upload, now the new chapter is finally here.

There was no way Arya was wearing a dress for a dinner, even if The Daenerys Targaryen was the one requesting her presence. She could remember dinners back in Winterfell. She would throw food at bran and Sansa while Robb and Jon talked about hunts and thrilling stories, things she wanted to join in but Father said she was too young, Mother holding a crying Rickon on her lap.

She’d be lying to herself if she said that she didn’t miss those moments, but remembering them brought back memories that she’d rather forget.

She’d remember her father’s smile, but that was replaced by the memory of his head removed from his body, his body being dragged away from the screaming crowd just as swiftly as the sword that ended his life.

Arya remembered when she and Bran would sword fight outside in the training yard of Winterfell, but it faded into seeing his unmoving figure in his bed, the maester telling her and her family that he would be paralyzed for the rest of his life.

Little Rickon; she never knew what happened to him, but Arya always carried that feeling around that it wasn’t good at all.

She remembered Sansa holding her when she was scared of the lightning, one of the only good memories she had of her and her sister, but that too was swapped with watching Sansa scream, pleading for her father’s life until she passed out from watching him die right in front of her, And who knows what happened to her while in the Lannister’s hands.

Of course, Mother and Robb. Any pleasant memories of them that she held onto slipped through her fingers because of the Red Wedding. Seeing Robb’s head removed, just like Father’s, and Grey WInd’s as well, then being tied up to a horse to seeing them hang the wolf’s head in place of her brother.  
Her mother’s body floating down the river for her to see, her frail neck sliced so hard that she could see bone.

And Jon, her favorite brother. She never saw anything bad happen to him, thank goodness, but when he left for The Wall, leaving her behind, not knowing what would happen to him was traumatizing enough for her at nine years old.

Nothing would ever be the same.

Arya was snapped out of her dark, violent thoughts by the sound of her room door squeaking open to reveal Missandei. “Are you ready for dinner?” she asked her friend.

The assassin took a quick glance at herself. She wore a pair of black hunting boots, dark grey pants, and a light grey tunic, looking like a Stark through and through. Her skinny little sword was strapped to her hip like always. She sometimes fell asleep with the sword still attached to her.

“As I’ll ever be.” She responded with a… Shy smile.

Missandei mirrored her smile and walked with Ayra down to the dining area of the Great Pyramid, occasionally telling her about things she noticed the killer looking at.

They eventually made it to the huge doors blocking them from the dining room. Missandei nodded her head to the guards, signaling them to let the two women inside. The Unsullied pulled open the doors, Arya’s eyes finding Daenerys before looking around at anything else.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.” The Queen stood at the corner of the massive room, looking out the window at the people-her people. She tore her gaze away to see her guests, her violent eyes hovering on Arya’s very Northern outfit. “Lady Stark, I didn’t expect you to dress up for this occasion,”

Arya looked at herself once again, caught a little off-guard by Daenerys’ statement, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at “Well, this is my first dinner with ‘the Dragon Queen,’ so I figured ditching the bloody tunics weren’t a bad idea.” she responded after a second.

Missandei failed miserably at hiding her smile. “Your Grace, I apologize for our timing. I was merely showing Lady Stark around a little.”

“That’s alright.” Daenerys rose from the window sill. “Our dinner should be ready shortly. Come sit.”

The roundtable was made of wood, which caught Arya’s eye. How could they get the resources for this stuff out here in the desert? Daenerys sat down on the far right.

“Missandei?” Arya grabbed her friend by the arm before she could sit as well. “Where am I supposed to sit?” she whispered, suddenly nervous.

The translator smiled at her friend’s anxious question. “Wherever you would like.” she motioned to the table kindly before sitting down next to Daenerys, a chair in between the two.

Arya hesitantly sat down on the other side of the Dragon Mother, her too leaving a chair between them.

“Lady Stark, tell me-”

“Arya.” the Queen was interrupted by her dinner guest.

“What?” 

“Forgive me, but it’s just Arya. My mother was a true Lady, and so i-was my sister, but I have never been a Lady, your Grace.” Arya clarified for her.

“Oh, then Arya,” she tried again, “I have been pondering something for a while now by myself and with Lord Tyrion, but I want you to decide.”

Arya tilted her head in thought. What could she possibly want me to decide? “Your Grace, with all due respect, I don’t think I’m fit to make the decisions for your people.”

“It’s not about my people, it’s about you.” Daenerys clarified. 

Arya furrowed her brow in confusion. “Me?”

Daenerys nodded before speaking. “I want you to become my Queensguard.”

What?

Arya tried her hardest to not let her jaw drop to the stone cold floor. “Your Queensguard?” she couldn’t believe it at all. Based on the look on Missandei’s face, neither could she.

“Yes.” Daenerys smiled at Arya’s shocked expression. “And I want to test your skills as you accompany me on a journey.”

“Where?” Missandei and Arya said at the same time. 

“To Winterfell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but let me know how it is!!!  
> -L


	8. The Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya, Daenerys, and Missandei have a chat during dinner, and Arya is hesitant about returning home because of her actions she had done in her absence from the North, but her new friends convince her otherwise.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> And of course, a cliffhanger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait, but I'm back from my travels and had to write another chapter for my amazing fans.  
> Thank you to everyone for the suggestions and I always love more!  
> Enjoy!
> 
> -L

“Why Winterfell?” Arya’s head was really spinning now.

“Because if I am to take the Iron Throne then I want the North on my side,” Daenerys stated. “And they are your family. I cannot have you by my side knowing that your flesh and blood think that you’re dead.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be!” Arya raised her voice just enough to be considered furious. She could not go back to Winterfell… Not now or ever.

“Your family has lost so much- both of our families, Arya. They deserve to know that their Lost Wolf is no longer lost.” Daenerys kept her tone the same but emphasized the meaning behind it with a firm stare. “Why are you so heart-set on remaining lost?”

The young Stark closed her eyes to avoid her Queen’s gaze and turned her head to her lap where her hands laid, balled into fists. “I am an assassin. I am a killer. Nothing can change that, your grace.” Arya opened her eyes but looked down at her hands, shoulders feeling impossibly heavy. “I cannot possibly face my family with all this blood on my hands. I have dishonored them enough already.”

Missandei and Daenerys exchanged a quick look with each other. The translator had a pleading look in her eyes as if asking to say something to her friend. The Dragon Mother nodded curtly before turning back to the Wolf.

“Arry, they want you home, no matter what you did in your absence, I can assure you.” Missandei wanted more than anything to instantly convince her friend of this but knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

Arya finally looked up from her lap and at her company. “How can you be so sure that my brother will not throw me out the second I walk through those doors?”

“Because you are still good, Arya,” Daenerys stated with sympathy. She thought about reaching out to grab the girl’s hand for a split second but quickly thought better of it. “You have to see that somehow.”

“I have a giant target on my back because I left the Faceless Men; I cannot bring that danger to Winterfell with me. I am endangering you all by just speaking to you.” Arya was angry. Not at Daenerys or her family, but at the Faceless Men; for not giving her a choice, for making her a risk to everyone around her, and for turning her into an absolute monster.

Daenerys and Missandei paused, equally puzzled on what to say to the Wolf’s confession.

“No worries, she has dragons,” Missandei muttered, pointing to Daenerys, making the young queen chuckle softly and the lost Stark smile at her friend’s humor.

“And I have you,” Daenerys commented with a small nod of her head in Arya’s direction.

Arya sighed and shook her head. “If I go with you, I will act as your Queensguard along the way?” She still didn’t believe what Daenerys said, but she wanted to protect her either way. She promised that much.

“Yes. I’ve seen you in combat, and I know without a doubt that you would be an amazing soldier, but I have not seen you as the role of Guard of The Last Targaryen quite yet.” She let a small smirk slip through. 

Arya almost laughed at that. “I hope I will not disappoint you, My Queen.”

“I have faith in you. I do not ask just anyone to be my Queensguard; only those who have impressed me, and trust me when I say that I have not met nor heard of anyone like you, Arya Stark.” Daenerys insisted with the voice of a true queen, making Arya’s nerves stand on end just a little.

They were all interrupted by the doors behind them opening up, allowing several servants to walk through holding trays of finely cooked meats and steamed vegetables, fruits arranged beautifully on platers; something rare to see in Meereen.  
They placed the colorful edibles on the table in front of Daenerys, Missandei and Arya as well as clean plates and utensils that looked very expensive. One of these could’ve bought be a ship pass out of here, Arya said to herself, thinking about her time in Meereen and how little she had when she started, the days when she began to steal from ridiculously drunk men to afford food or a shelter for the night. 

From searching for scraps and sleeping on the streets to having her own room inside of an ancient pyramid, being offered the position of Queensguard by a Targaryen… If she wasn’t in front of the Mother of Dragons, she would’ve laughed out loud. Oh, how tables turn.

Another servant came in holding a few glasses and a pitcher of wine, setting them down and pouring the red liquid into the goblets.

Forgetting about their conversation for a few minutes the three women ate the food placed in front of them, Arya abandoning her old manners of when she was younger and actually used her fork to pick up the meat and vegetables, chewing with her mouth closed and wiping her face with a cloth. _Mother would be proud._ Arya remarked in her mind, hiding a sad smile behind her napkin.

Arya had finished before anyone else, resisting the urge to lick her plate clean. She decided to look out the large window, eyeing the beautiful city and tall mountains from where she sat.

It didn’t leave Daenerys’ attention that Arya didn’t touch her wine at all, raising curiosity inside of her. “Is the wine not to your liking, Miss Stark?” 

Arya quickly turned her attention from the window to the silver-haired woman in front of her. “No, your Grace. I just don’t drink, that’s all.”

“May I ask the reason?”

“I never saw the point. If I were to become drunk I couldn’t possibly defend those who need it if I am not able to walk in a straight line.” Arya explained.

“Well, if you’re dedicated enough to become my Queensguard, then I would like to make sure you can handle a particularly... difficult test first.” Daenerys grinned as she spoke.

“You don’t mean-” Missandei started with a shocked look, but Daenerys nodded her head to confirm whatever suspicions the other woman thought.

“Tell me, Arya, have you ever seen a dragon before?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happens next? Can anyone guess? I'm forever grateful the kudos and kind feedback... It motivates me more than you might ever know!
> 
> New chapter in the future!
> 
> Also, please go check out my new work called 'My Creative readers.' It's the start of some Arya/Daenerys (And more) One-Shots inspired by you! Feel free to comment some One-Shot ideas that you have!  
> Man I love my readers!!!
> 
> -L


	9. 'Nervous'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys and Missandei talk about their friend. Daenerys and Arya have a small... moment, and both of them are just so very confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than normal, so I would grab some pop-corn or Skittles or something and sit back.

“Your Grace you cannot do this!” Missandei explained. They had finished dinner and went their separate ways, the queen and her translator in the privacy of Daenerys’ quarters, and Arya going back to her room to prepare for whatever happened tomorrow. “She could get incredibly injured, or-or worse!”

Daenerys couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s worry. “Missandei, I know you’re concerned about Arya’s safety, but I am not going to let anything happen to her.”

“But it’s not safe! They’ve never let anyone else touch them without threatening to spit fire! Pease, My Queen, I beg of you!” Missandei pleaded with the woman in front of her.

Daenerys shook her head as she silently chuckled, trying her best to hide her grin.

Missandei’s jaw dropped. “With all due respect, I do not find this a laughing matter, your Grace,”

Daenerys turned to her friend, a kind small on her face and put her hands on the taller woman’s tense shoulders. “I find it funny that you sound like the worried older sister.”

Missandei also let a small smile slip through. “Arya’s special to me. She’s helped me in my darkest times. I just can’t imagine what could happen if-”

“Nothing will happen,” Daenerys interjected kindly, sliding her hands down to the taller woman’s forearms. “I just want to see how they react to her if she’s most likely going to be around them for our journey North,” she explained. “With me there I can make sure she’s safe, I promise. She’s stubborn enough that my dragons might just let her pet them,” she added with a laugh.

Missandei’s face grew sad once again after a moment. Seeing this, Daenerys asked what was wrong. “It’s just-It never occurred to me that Arry has been trying to keep us safe and protect us this entire time, yet she doesn’t do much to keep herself safe.”

Daenerys sobered up at that. She let go of Missandei and sat down on a chair by a large window, the moonlight casting a beautiful glow on the carpet of her room, goosebumps forming on her arms from the cool night air. “When you met her, she never said anything about her title of Arya Stark?”

Missandei shook her head. “All she ever told me was that she left Westross after her family was killed.” she looked down in sorrow. “I never had the heart to ask any further.”

Daenerys could always tell that Arya kept the Stark hidden deep down inside of her, but she never knew why until tonight. That girl did what she had to do to survive from a very young age, even if it meant becoming a ruthless assassin before she saw her eighteenth winter. Daenerys herself wasn’t much older than the girl but had a kingdom and advisors to help her, Arya had nobody.

It really amazed her just how strong the girl was; because she could kill a man before she could blink, but because after everything that happened to her she still kept going, whether her motive was revenge, spite, or just stubbornness, Daenerys found herself thinking a lot about her courage.

Arya Stark was dragged into her life and beaten, yet she still was kind and brave.  
She was shot by her guard, yet still tried to protect her and her people.

Arya was whipped because of her and she still bent the knee and promised her loyalty.

With everything that their families, their ancestors did to each other Arya remained faithful to her, trusting her and following orders like a true soldier.  
Her problem lately though, was that Daenerys saw her as more than an addition to her army to retake the Iron Throne. When she stitched her wounds in the Stark’s bedroom, she found herself wanting something more than just loyalty from Ayra. Daenerys hadn’t felt that feeling of peace since… She couldn’t even remember.

It literally hurt to think about that woman anymore right now. Daenerys talked with Missandei for a little more about nothing in particular before retiring to her bed. 

Tomorrow she would let Arya see a dragon in the flesh.

***

Waking up to the smell of freshly baked bread was starting to become something Arya could become used to. Not even bothering to get dressed and change out of her nightshirt or put her hair up, the Wild Stark still felt eager to start the exciting day ahead of her. 

She enjoyed being alone last night in her room, able to think about her decisions and about seeing a dragon for the first time.

In the middle of eating breakfast, the small loaf of bread the one of the servant’s had left her, a knock at her door caused her to swallow the large mouthful she had and wipe a few stray crumbs off her tunic before standing to open the door.

Pulling open the door to see Daenerys just outside surprised her, her back straightening up a bit more. “My Queen,” Arya’s eyes widened slightly, suddenly feeling very aware that she was still in her nightclothes.

Daenerys smiled just a tad, seeing the surprise in the younger woman’s eyes. “I trust you slept well, Stark,” she teased, looking Arya up and down, eyeing her state of dress. “But I’m afraid today’s activity would be better if you had something a bit more protective on.”

“O-Of course, your Grace. I apologize I’m not as presentable as usual.” Arya nervously hid her body behind the door a little.

The Khaleesi bit the inside of her cheek to stop her smile from growing at the sight of a deadly assassin shying away like a small child. “It’s alright. I actually came by to see if you needed help with your armor.”

Arya looked inside her room at her bed quickly. She had her armor laid out nicely beside her weapons. Most of it was easy to put on by herself, but the chest plate had straps in the back that would not be easy, especially with her back not fully healed from that day in the dungeons.

Looking back, she saw Daenerys patiently waiting for an answer. “If It’s not too much trouble, your Grace.” Arya almost whispered.

“Not at all,” Daenerys walked inside the small space, turning to see Arya still behind the door slightly. “Do you want to shut the door? Or are you planning to escape?” She joked with the shy girl. Daenerys thought it was amazing just how innocent Arya looked even she was probably very much the opposite.

Arya quickly shut the door and turned around, the ashen-haired woman opening the top drawer to her little dresser, looking for a good shirt for Arya to wear. Picking out a neatly folded tan shirt, she unfolded it and held it out for Arya to see. “Is this one alright?” when Arya nodded softly but didn’t move forward, Daenerys made a motion with her hand to get the younger woman to step closer.

Arya obeyed and came closer to her queen, turning around as she removed her shirt, pulling up from the hem and sliding the loose material over her head, very thankful she wore a breast band now. Daenerys didn’t look away from all of the scars and unhealed wounds, her worried stare most likely burning a hole in the Lost Wolf’s spine. 

She took the old garment from Arya and set it down on the bed next to them, swapping it for the clean one she chose. When she rested a hand on Arya’s back, feeling the markings on the pale skin, the girl flinching just barely, not from the heat of her dragon’s blood, but the because of the person touching her.

“Is your back healing well?” The Mother of Dragons asked as casual as she could, trying not to make it obvious that she was looking at the whip marks scattered across the flesh in front of her like an ancient map, unable to keep the question in any longer.

“Yes, My Queen.” Arya’s answer was short and rushed, but Daenerys didn’t want to push her more because of her own curiosity. 

After the young Stark carefully slipped the shirt on Daenerys grabbed the leather armor at the foot of the bed and walked around to Arya’s front, holding up the thick chest plate up for the girl to slip her arms through the intended holes, the assassin looking directly in front of her, eyes not looking anywhere else but the wall.

“You know, Daenerys is fine to say when we are alone.” she offered as she moved behind her company again to fasten the armor together.

“I forget myself.” her response was once again too quickly.

“Arya,” Daenerys fastened the last buckle of the chest plate. She laid a gentle hand on Arya’s shoulder. “Is there something wrong?” when no response came Daenerys worriedly lifted her hand off the sense shoulder and gently touched the nervous Stark’s chin, pulling slightly to get the girl to look at her.

“Arya, if I’ve made you uncomfortable I can leave,” she started, concerned that the Stark just seemed to shut down.

“No, it’s fine,” she answered quietly.

“You are not.” That wasn’t a question. Daenerys looked down to see Arya’s hands balled into fists.

“I’m just thinking about things.” Arya shook her head and blinked a few times as if to reset her mind.

“What thought would cause you to squeeze your hands hard enough to make them shake?” Daenerys chuckled half-heartedly, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Arya shook her head again and sighed softly. “I am just nervous to-to… to meet your dragons, your Grace.” she hesitated, struggling with what to say.

Daenerys huffed. “I can assure you that will not be harmed.” she took a small step forward, feeling slightly hurt when Arya stepped back, barely noticeable, but there none the less.

“It’s not that.” Arya ran a hand through her hair. “My father said that he would see a dragon before I did before he left for King’s Landing. After he died-I don’t know, I guess I just never really thought I’d be the one to see it first.”

Daenerys remained silent, not knowing if anything she could say would cheer up the saddened Stark.

Arya wiped her face with her hand, sucking in a shaky breath. “Anyway, uh, thank you for your help, My Queen.” she quickly grabbed her sword belt and began to put it on, putting on a well-practiced face.

Daenerys could tell Arya was brushing off the subject of her father, clearly not wanting to think about it anymore, so she just nodded briefly before turning to leave.

On the way out Daenerys cleared her throat in the middle of Arya putting on her boots. “The guards outside will escort you to the arena.”

Violet eyes met Steel, holding the gaze for a few moments until Daenerys looked away, closing the door on the way out. Whatever had Arya in such a state had to be more than just that one confession; she just knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me! I had to though... I had to.
> 
> Let me know what you think will happen next! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> -L


	10. Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finally meets Daenerys' dragons, but it doesn't go as planned(In the best way)...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at 3:00 in the morning originally, so I apologize for any idiot mistakes.

Once she finished getting dressed the guards outside of her room escorted her through the Great Pyramid, down underneath the structure to the well-lit dragon pit. The Dothraki standing at the entrance let the three of them pass through, allowing Arya to get a good look around the large arena; it had a large, circular opening to the far left, the ground made of tile and sand, as well as small metal grates at the top to let the natural sun through, giving the arena a beautiful golden glow.

She read stories about this; some say it was built long ago for a fighting pit or other battle tournaments, some say it was built to train the ancient masters best fighters, but no books or tales said anything about utilizing the space to keep dragons. 

She could hear footsteps echoing around the room as they hit the floor below. Turning to the sound, she found it was Missandei almost running over to her side. “Arry! You’re right on time.”

“As always,” she replied with a smirk, letting the taller woman put a hand on her back as they walked to the spot where their Queen stood, chatting with the Lannister Imp.

Daenerys turned around in the middle of a sentence, noticing the absence of the Summer Islander by her side. “Ah, you’re finally here.” a look of relief evident on her face.

Arya bowed at the waist once she and Missandei stood in front of her and Tyrion. “I’m not too late I hope, your Grace.”

“You’re actually right on time,” the ashen-haired woman gave a small smirk before turning her attention to the large room. Before anyone could respond, Daenerys took to large breath, put her middle finger and thumb  
to her mouth and released a loud, sharp whistle that rang throughout the arena. Just one minute of silence later and Arya watched Tyrion and Missandei jump as the echo of Daenerys’ whistle was replaced by multiple piercing screeches coming from somewhere beyond the large opening.

“Well, let us hope they got enough sleep,” Tyrion muttered under his breath, shyly smiling after earning a silencing glare from Daenerys, looking down at his feet to avoid her gaze.

Arya’s hand shot to the blade at her hip, instinctively putting a foot in front of her, getting into a fighting stance. She quickly dropped her hand from her sword as she watched three majestic dragons flew out together from the tunnel-like hole far away from them, the creatures flying after each other, the green and gold dragons making biting motions once they got close enough to the slightly bigger black one’s flank.

Everything that surprised her in her life was nothing like this moment. She was seeing dragons flying right in front of her eyes. Daenerys stole a glance of Arya, resisting the urge to smile upon seeing the assassin’s mouth slightly open and eyes wide in fear of wonder, she couldn’t tell which one. 

The dragons landed on the sandy ground one by one, each one making a loud ‘thump’ that even the Unsullied that guarded the entrance braced themselves on the shaking earth of the beasts impact.

All three of them stretched their wings and stuck out their necks, shaking them in a way that reminded Arya of her father’s hunting dogs. She felt on top of the world at this point, and she was still quite a ways away from them.

“These are my children,” Daenerys stated with pride in her voice. “Biggest is Drogon, the Green is Rhaegal, and the last is Viserion.”

Tyrion and Missandei took a step back as the green dragon roared, delivering an ear-splitting sound. The large creatures sniffed around the air in every direction, acting almost suspicious.

Daenerys furrowed her brow. They hadn’t done that since she came to Meereen. Knowing that they were used to the smell of the city, she remembered that they hadn’t met Arya before. They could immediately tell someone new was here.

Arya couldn’t imagine she would see dragons like this before. “They’re beautiful.” she marveled, finally snapping out of her speechless state.

At that, the Dragon Mother looked surprised. Jorah, Tyrion, Missandei, anyone she could remember seeing her children never called them beautiful, only beast, vicious, dangerous, but not beautiful.

“Yes, they are,” she whispered, knowing that nobody could hear her words.

Suddenly, the golden dragon spun around on its feet, eyes searching in her direction. The creature started to flap its wings and screeched, launching itself towards Arya. 

Daenerys stood still, panicking. Recently her children didn’t threaten anyone unless they threatened their mother, and she knew that Arya was not doing anything of the sort.

Faster than the thrust of an Unsullied spear, Arya grabbed Daenerys by the waist, pulling her down and out of the way, the older woman’s fall broken by the Stark, the dragon smashing against the wall but turned around after shaking its head and continued his search for Arya. She quickly stood up, making sure Daenerys was alright. 

“Protect the Queen!” she yelled at both the Unsullied and the Dothraki, not caring about whether or not they feared the massive dragons in front of them.

She immediately jumped into action, running far away from Daenerys; If Viserion was chasing her then she would make sure he didn’t hurt her friends.

Looking behind her the dragon was quickly gaining on her. Arya kept running as fast as she could, her sides aching from the effort of her lungs sucking in air.  
Thinking about what to do next, she turned around and looked for a way out. She saw an opening in Viserion’s long strides, leaving enough room underneath her to be able to possibly slide under him. She waiting until he came a bit closer and slid right underneath Viserion at the same time he tried to snatch her in his enormous jaws. His brothers roared watched with what seemed like humor in their threatening eyes.

Arya had sand in her eyes and all over her clothes, but still got back up and opened her stinging eyes, looking for Viserion. She heard another loud screech from the dragon realizing he was right in front of her.

Her eyes stung from the sand in them, her lungs burned, and her legs ached from trying to outrun a dragon. All of the sudden Arya remembered something she did to train her beloved Direwolf all those years ago; Stand your ground. Although she doubted it would work on an enraged dragon, she had to try because Arya couldn’t outrun him for much longer.

“Arya!!” Daenerys shouted over the dragon’s noises but to no avail, Arya quickly glanced over in her direction to see Tyrion running out with Missandei and a Dothraki warrior, Daenerys herself blocked from running towards the young protector.

Viserion ran after her, flapping his wings, making himself look three times bigger than he actually was. Arya couldn’t take a deep breath as her lungs and heart were pounding so hard. She put her dominant foot in front of her and bent at the knees a little.

Viserion opened his mouth, ready to strike and finish her off when Arya mustered every last bit of air she had left inside her and released it a wild, almost guttural scream at the golden dragon so powerful it hurt her throat, the echo bouncing off the walls so hard she could’ve sworn they shook.

He skidded to a halt in front of her, his claws digging into the ground to help him stop. Once he did, her body came only a few inches from his snout, feeling the creature’s breath and heat on her face. She panted heavily looking up at the amazing beast before her. Seeing the look in his eyes made every other sound beside her rapid heartbeat and the rumbling of his throat die around her.

Viserion seemed confused that his prey fought back or would show such strength. Arya slowed her breathing down, but her heart still pounded like a war-drum inside of her. She stared in awe as she realized that as she slowed her breathing, he did too. She couldn’t believe what was happening.

Arya swallowed her fear reached up with a shaking hand, her close proximity to the creature allowing her to easily reach out and touch him. Viserion growled when he saw her hand but Arya didn’t retreat. She prayed to every god she could think of that he would trust her.  
Arya’s hand touched Viserion’s nose gently, breathing out a sigh of relief when he didn’t move or bite at her. The scales around his eyes and nose were softer than she thought they would be. His teeth looked sharper from up close, making her feel thankful she wasn’t caught between them. The golden shimmering in the sunlight made Viserion look like an absolutely beautiful gold statue come to life. She felt like she was dreaming.

Viserion took one last huff at the Stark, then stepped back, turning to his brothers and stomped over to them, leaving Arya completely astonished.

“Arya? Arya!” the sounds around her finally returned to her ears by Daenerys’ terrified voice behind her.

He spun around just in time to see Daenerys running to her side, grabbing the assassin by the wrists, looking up and down her entire person, and Arya realized she was checking for any injuries. “Daenerys, I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” she patted up and down Arya’s arms, still not convinced.

Arya huffed out a little laugh at the Queen’s worried state. She grabbed Daenerys’ hands and made her look into her steel irises, forgetting about how close they were. “Daenerys, I’m fine,” she repeated, emphasizing the statement by gently squeezing her warm hands.

“What did you do? He’s never stopped like that.”

“I just stopped and held my ground,” she explained, the tension and violet eyes in front of her making her want to grow wings like the dragon’s behind her and fly into the clouds.

“I-I thought...” Daenerys trailed off, at a complete loss for words. She shook and then nodded her head in the direction of the exit, now absent of any guards, most likely making sure Missandei and the Queen’s Hand were safe. “We should go. You must pack for Winterfell.”

Thanks to her training with the Faceless Men Arya could tell Daenerys was about to say something else. Her body language, tone, and her facial expressions gave it away, but Daenerys kept it inside. “Winterfell? Oh, yes.”

Daenerys abruptly let go of her hands, like they burned her already hot flesh. “You’ve proven yourself enough for today.” she teased, lightening the mood as best she could.

Arya nodded this time, looking back at Viserion, Rhaegal, and Drogon. “I don’t think they like me.” she swallowed and made eye contact with Rhaegal for a split second. 

“You’re still standing here. He doesn’t hate you...” Daenerys smirked slightly. “And I would be very sad if you were gone.”

Arya choked on her own air, her eyes burning from the effort it took to not show it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!!! Such a long wait, but I hope it was worth it.  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> -L


	11. Small Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys has a startling revelation, and Arya opens up a little bit about her childhood at Winterfell as they prepare for the journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!
> 
> -L

The rest of Daenerys’ day was spent packing her things for the journey to Winterfell. Once finished picking out clothes the servants had shown her, altered for the cold weather of the North, the young queen sat on her bed inside of her chambers with her shoulders slouched in a way that would surely be inappropriate for a queen if anyone was around to see her.

Wanting to relax her sore muscles Daenerys shifted to lay down on her bed, sighing quietly at the instant relief on her tired body. Normally Missandei would join her in her room and have a quiet conversation about their busy day or potential suitors from across the world, to which Missandei would smile when Daenerys rolled her eyes, But tonight she just wanted to be alone, away from the rest of the world.

Closing her eyes didn’t help relax the ashen-haired woman. Instead of finding peace, or calm darkness, her mind replayed a terrifying memory of that day; Arya Stark being chased down by a dragon much, much, much bigger than her. When Daenerys saw Viserion roar at her northern guest she froze up. She was angry at herself. I never freeze up.

What really made her head spin was Arya’s actions. The younger woman’s first instinct was to push her out of the way. Not only that, but she continued to lead the danger away.  
The way Arya almost expertly dodged her child like it was nothing was very impressive, but Daenerys felt like it was her fault in a huge way. It’s was her idea to introduce her dragons to the young assassin. If Arya hadn’t… done whatever she did to Viserion to make him stop his pursuit, the girl would be dead.

That is what surprised her the most; the way Arya shouted at her dragon and he just stopped like a scolded child. Daenerys couldn’t understand.  
Lately, Daenerys found her thoughts were almost always filled with Arya. That woman did something to the Dragon Queen that not many people could do. She made her smile, laugh, and act like a regular person at times until she forgot that the Stark was most likely only doing those things because Daenerys was her queen.

She couldn’t lie to herself though, not truly. Arya Stark was charming in a way that made it hard not to think of her as anything more than a friend. Daenerys never admitted it out loud, not even to Missandei, but sometimes it was killing her to keep her thoughts shut away in her mind at certain moments.

Daenerys sat up a little too fast and began to pace at a mild speed at the foot of her bed rethinking everything over and over again. She was just too tired to think clearly.

It was silly-stupid even, for her to be so wound up because of a person. She shouldn’t think of Arya like that since Arya would never think of her in that way.  
Then her mind flashed to when she assisted Arya with her armor the day before. Daenerys felt for the Wild Stark that had lost so much in her life, yet still, she remained strong and resilient, no matter what.  
She had kind eyes, she was funny, a reckless heart, wild from birth, always hardworking, and absolutely beautiful, despite the northern girl’s insecurities.

Daenerys stopped pacing, a heavy feeling in her heart making her lose her breath, a hand pressed up to her chest, whispering something into the air in complete and utter disbelief, just this once, too far in shock to keep it inside this time.

“I’m in love with Arya Stark.”

***

Arya didn’t have many things in her possession to take with her to the North besides her weapons and the clothes on her back. Turning to leave, the Stark let out a small gasp and hurried over to her small dresser, opening up the top drawer and rummaging around through the nightshirts, smiling when she found her treasure; the small wooden wolf Missandei had made for her. She could never leave it, seeing as it was her good luck charm.

Finally heading out of her room and down the many steps of the great pyramid, squinting as the bright morning sun hit her eyes. Arya walked calmly through the massive city, expertly avoiding the busy people among her coming every which way.  
She stopped at her destination; the exit that led directly outside of the city. There she was met by two Dothraki soldiers just outside of the Meereen’s walls, eyes searching the crowds in front of them, stopping once they saw the small Stark.

Arya gave one of the men with a respectful nod of her head in time with his before the tall warriors worked to push open the heavy city doors, following her as she stepped through. Arya had not been outside of the city in a few days, and she missed the closer view of the wide-open plains and beautiful mountains that she gazed at from the Great Pyramid.

The bright sun hindered her sight slightly but was still able to see a caravan of many horses, carriages, Unsullied and Dothraki alike loading the carriages with food, weapons, and other supplies. At the front of the caravan the Targaryen Queen, the little Lannister, and Missandei watching as the carts got more full of the things necessary for their long journey North.

Arya walked ahead of the guards, quick to make her way over to where her Queen, friend, and Tyrion stood. “Your Grace,” she cleared her throat to make herself known.  
The three of them turned around abruptly at the noise. Daenerys smiled once she saw her, but looked exhausted; Arya could see it in her eyes. “Miss Stark, how good of you to join us!” Tyrion chirped, bowing his head respectfully.

Tyrion had recently cleared the air between him and the Stark child, pulling her aside after a particularly tension-flooded dinner, telling her about Arya’s sister and how he never touched her in their time together, always trying to make the poor girl comfortable in his presence. Arya thanked the Lion for treating her sister with such kindness, her Faceless Man training helped in knowing whether or not he spoke the truth, and if she was fooling her, then the only answer would be that he wasn’t human.  
Although it took a few days to do so, Arya began to treat Tyrion better after their conversation, having more frequent chats without giving him a murderous look or the feeling of an unpleasant atmosphere whenever they crossed paths with each other.

“I should say the same to you, Tyrion, after all that wine last night it’s a miracle your still standing.” The young Stark countered playfully, a smirk to reassure him that it was a lighthearted remark.

When Daenerys gave him an unimpressed glance paired with a raised eyebrow, Tyrion blushed and looked straight to the ground. “You know I cannot resist a glass or two after a tiring day.” The Lannister murmured as he raised his head once more, squinting his eyes at the brightness of the sun.

Arya rolled her eyes and huffed softly. “Do we have everything we need for the journey packed and accounted for?” She questioned to Missandei and Daenerys.

“The last of the provisions are being loaded as we speak.” Daenerys nodded her head in the direction of the Dothraki and Unsullied alike carrying rolls of blankets, water canteens, and sealed boxes of dried meats for the long road to the Lost Wolf’s home.

Seeing all of the provisions getting loaded into wagons and such reminded Arya that this was really happening; she was going home again, forced to face her little remaining family for the first time in years. She’d be lying to herself if she told anyone that she didn’t want to go back. Arya truly wanted to come back to Winterfell but felt like it wasn’t where she belonged. After everything that had happened to her and what she had done, Arya began to think that nothing could ever bring her home. But that wasn’t true.

“Now tell me, little wolf,” Missandei broke her thoughts. “How cold does it really get in the North? I’ve heard stories about the weather, but never knew if it was actually true or not.”

Arya didn’t speak up right away, taking her time to think of her answer to her friend. “There’s a reason we’ve packed so many furs. I remember in Winterfell there was a very big snowstorm once when I was 10,” She tilted her head slightly as she tried to remember the memory as best as she could. “So much snow had fallen that I thought it would be a fun idea to jump off the highest point of the castle into a giant bank of it.”

All three of them turned their heads towards her very quickly. “What I hadn’t realized was that the snow underneath had frozen into thick ice from the harsh cold.” She resisted the urge to smile as what came next. “I jumped off, thinking it could be hilarious to sink into the fluffy snow, but when I hit the ground, my feet didn’t go through the ice, so my knees hit my chest so hard I couldn’t breathe.”

“You must be joking,” Tyrion muttered in disbelief.

“After I got some air in me I wandered back inside to my room, just in shock that I hadn’t died. I later found out when the maester came to check up on me when I had stomach pains, I apparently broke to of my ribs and hid it from my whole family for three days.” Arya huffed out a laugh at Missandei’s dumbstruck face.

“How did you hide that from your family?” Daenerys finally questioned.

Arya just shrugged. “I was always a stubborn child.”

“Not much has changed, I see,” Tyrion stated with amusement.

Daenerys smiled, ducking her head a little to try and hide it. Arya saw it though, feeling proud of herself for making her Queen happy. It became a habit of hers to try and get the usually serious woman Arya had met to smile or laugh, relax every now and then.

Out of the corner of her eye, Arya noticed an Unsullied marching their way, his helmet was off and came forward with much more confidence than his fellow soldiers. The man’s armor was also slightly altered from the others, Arya noted. “My Queen, everything needed for the journey is packed and the soldiers that will be accompanying us are all prepared and accounted for.”

“Thank you, Grey Worm,” Daenerys replied. “We shall ride out shortly.”

The man, Grey Worm, bowed his head before turning back to the caravan of Dothraki on horses and armed Unsullied soldiers guarding the wagons filled with food, water, and bedding.

Arya took the small bit of silence to address the Targaryen. “Your Grace, if it’s alright with you I’d like to ride in the front of the caravan, just to be able to watch for any sign of danger that might come our way.”  
“If it would make you feel safer, or set your mind at ease, than you may ride in the front,” Daenerys responded after a moment.

“It isn’t for my safety,” Arya admitted. “I’m just doing my duty as your Queensguard, Your Grace.” She turned her body to Tyrion, Missandei, and Daenerys and bowed before leaving find a good horse for the journey.

Once out of earshot, Tyrion spoke. “By that last sentence I take it you’ve changed your mind about her?”

“I didn’t want to at first, but Arya had proven many times in many ways that although she’s still very young, she’s also very capable.”Daenerys watched the Stark walk away with a little sympathy in her eyes. “I trust her to protect me, and I know the others do as well. I probably couldn’t ever have anyone better as my Queensguard.”


	12. Oh So Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 'gang' sets off for Winterfell. Missandei and Arya have another heart to heart, and Daenerys and Arya get a LOT closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a grab-your-popcorn chapter, kids.

A few minutes after they had set off for their journey, taking one last look at Meereen before departing with all of their supplies. As promised, Arya rode up in the front of the caravan, joined by a very tense-looking Missandei on a light brown horse, the Stark sat atop a midnight black stallion. It was very amusing to watch her friend keep from screeching whenever the animal sped up a little every now and then.

“You know, the horse can smell your fear.” Arya disclosed, leaning closer to the woman.

Missandei stiffened further, looking like a child caught stealing sweets. This caused Arya to snicker softly, ducking her head down to try and suppress the laugh. “You are still a mischievous little rascal. Haven’t changed one bit.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Arya argued playfully, feigning being insulted. “I don’t need to stand up on my toes to pull your hair anymore.” She reached across to tug at one of the darker-skinned woman’s locks.

Missandei fully laughed out loud, shaking her head at the girl beside her. She took a second to appreciate the smile on Arya’s face; she hadn’t seen that look on her very much, and it made her day better every rare chance she saw it. It was hard to remember what Arya had gone through when she was laughing or joking around, just being herself, or at least a little bit more like the way she used to be.

“What’s that?” Arya looked over to her friend as she smiled sadly at her.

“What?” Missandei tilted her head, confused,

“That look in your eyes that you get when you’re thinking about something sad or happy.” She explained. “What are you thinking about?”

“I hope you know how much I care about you.” Missandei couldn’t stop those words from coming out of her mouth, putting her thoughts into words as best as she could.

Arya sobered up very fast. “Of course I do, ‘Andei,” she told her. “Whatever could make you doubt that?” The mood between them had changed very quickly, leaving her a little confused.

Missandei looked down at her hands holding onto her horse’s reins. “Do you remember when it rained for the first time in years in Astapor?” Missandei reminded her friend, waiting until Arya nodded before continuing. “And everyone was rushing underneath buildings or into their homes to avoid getting wet, But we rushed into the biggest clearing of the marketplace and jumped and danced around like it was the best day of our lives.”

The Nathi woman smiled fondly at the memory in her mind. “We got so soaked it looked like we had jumped into the sea,” she recalled fondly.

“And then afterward at night when we had to snuggle up in an alleyway to keep warm.” Arya slowed her horse just a little and pulled it closer to her friend. “It was that day when I realized that you cared for me more than anyone ever had.” At her confession, Missandei felt a lump in her throat.  
“You didn’t care what anyone else thought about us, you just danced with me in the rain like I was your friend. You cared for me enough to let me be myself for a while.”

Missandei held back tears when she finally met Arya’s eyes again. She remembered that day like it was the last. “I want you to know that… You are the sister I never had, and one of the most important people in my life.” 

Arya’s smile matched Missandei’s. “You are a sister to me too. Always.”

Missandei never thought that a young, orphaned assassin could be so caring, so loving towards her. But, Arya continued to surprise her ever since they met. Missandei prayed to every god she believed in that the Stark girl would stay that way for just a little longer before they reached Winterfell.

***

The caravan had been traveling on the road for a few hours now, long enough that the sun was almost completely gone, save for a little peek of it over the mountain range. Arya decided to stop for the day and make camp, posting guards around their campsite to watch over the Queen.

The former Faceless Man now stood outside of The Mother of Dragons’ tent, anxiously biting down on her tongue and clenching her fists. She had been meaning to talk to Daenerys about something on her mind since that day after she fought Janreo when she had stitched up Arya’s wound. The young Stark felt something she’d never felt before that day and constantly wanted to discuss it with her Queen.  
Arya never thought about love, or special bonds with another man, or woman, for that matter. She just always thought that nobody would want to be with an assassin, or a girl who everyone thought was dead. Romantic love was not a feeling she should have for anyone; it couldn’t work… right?

Taking a deep breath Arya masked her dread with a serious voice. “Your Grace? May I come in?”

She listened for a few seconds, watching a shadow move inside the tent. “Yes.” She heard a few moments later.

Feeling more comfortable now that she had permission, Arya pushed open the tent flap and walked in, her eyes instantly finding Daenerys sitting on her bed, facing her guest. She had reached her hands up to her braided hair, currently working on undoing them. She looked particularly stunning in the candlelight. The ashen-haired woman seemed a more little tense than usual when she looked up to her. “My Queen, we should reach the sea by tomorrow before dusk.”

Daenerys nodded her head in understanding. “Is that all?”

Arya’s breath hitched in her throat. She had gone over what to say to start the conversation in her head for the past five hours, but now that it was brought up she seemed to forget any words she had ever been taught. When Arya found Daenerys still looking up her expectantly, she said the first thing that she could manage out. “Do you need any help with your hair?” _Good job, you imbecile._

Daenerys’ face turned from serious to slightly surprised. “You came to help me with my braids?” She said, humor in her voice.

“It’s just- it must be tiring for you to do it yourself, My Queen,” Arya replied hesitantly, not wanting to offend her or go too far.

“I told you to call me Daenerys.” She glared at her Queensguard.

Arya cursed herself and shook her head. “Yes, of course, I apologize-”

“Oh, get over here.” Daenerys chuckled at the girl’s action.

Daenerys moved herself to sit on the foot of the bed, facing the other way this time, her remaining braids on display for her. Arya quickly shuffled over to the bed, easily going to work on the Targaryen’s few braids that needed to be undone. Her slightly shaking fingers enjoying the feeling of the older woman’s soft hair.  
Once she had unwoven quite a few of the intricate braids, she decided to fill the silence. “Missandei is very skilled at this. I don’t think I could ever have the patience to braid someone’s hair as well as this: It belongs to a beautiful queen.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” Daenerys questioned, thanking the gods that Arya couldn’t see her eyes widen slightly, turning her head just the tiniest bit to the side to let the former assassin have better access.

A small pause. 

“Very much,” Arya remarked, a little under her breath.

The young queen felt all of the air leave her lungs. Daenerys didn’t know what to say. Both women had filled the tent up with so much tension that it almost physically hurt to control themselves, trying very hard not to blurt out their feelings for one another right then without thinking.

“I-I’m so sorry Daenerys, that... was out of line.” She really needed to just keep her mouth shut around this woman. Arya mistook Daenerys’ surprised quietness for uncomfortable silence, quickly panicking and moving to back away.

Just before she could back up any further Daenerys turned around and grasped her wrist, keeping her firmly in place. The ashen-haired woman stood up to meet her protector. “Arya, stop.”

The assassin tilted her head in confusion. “Stop what?”

“Stop running...” Daenerys clarified, grabbing Arya’s other wrist to pull her just a little bit closer to her. “Please.”  
Arya couldn’t help but gaze down at Daenerys’ lips, then back up to her face. She stiffened when Daenerys stepped closer, most likely unaware of the downright sinful things she was doing to the poor Stark. Arya could tell from the start when she walked into the woman’s tent that Daenerys was going to make her feel helpless and smitten in some way or another, nevertheless, she decided to come in and trapped herself in the space of this mesmerizing Queen. Arya had never been so anxious in her entire life than she was standing in front of Daenerys right now, losing her breath when the ashen-haired queen reached a hand up to wrap around her neck, pulling her closer to the Targaryen’s face.

“D-Daenerys-”

Arya couldn’t finish what she wanted to say as Daenerys’ lips were just inches away from hers, breath feather-light and soft. “Do you want me to stop?” Daenerys whispered, playing with the little hairs on the nape of the assassin’s neck.

That question took Arya by surprise; not just because she didn’t think the Khaleesi would ask that question, but because of Arya’s answer. “No.”

Both women leaned in at the same time, slowly bringing their lips together like a horse to water. Color exploded in Arya and Daenerys’ minds as they discovered one another’s lips, the Mother of Dragons breaking the boundary by sliding her tongue into Arya's mouth, the young Stark holding back a moan as the shorter woman grasped her hair to pull her impossibly closer, hand finding purchase in the brunette’s locks.

Arya shoved any other thoughts that came up in her mind aside and focused on just how perfect Daenerys felt pressed against her, slowly breathing life back into her like the Queen’s lips were pure medicine. The wolf didn’t hesitate to grip Daenerys’ waist squeeze, noticing how the shorter woman moaned into her mouth at Arya’s actions, driving her absolutely crazy. 

Daenerys started to move towards the bed without taking her lips off of her Queensguard, eagerly falling onto the sheets with Arya’s body coming to rest on top of hers. The former Faceless Man sat up on her elbows as to not crush the woman beneath her.

Once Daenerys started fumbling with the brunette's leather armor, Arya broke the kiss to speak. “Dany, wait.”

Daenerys stopped at her nickname coming out of Arya’s mouth. “Dany? Wow, you sure do move fast.” she teased, getting a little laugh out of the girl on top of her.

“No, it’s just-I need…I need a second.” Arya closed her eyes in what looked like embarrassment.

“Are you alright?”

Arya sighed as she moved off of the older woman to sit next to her on the soft bed. “I’m not quite sure,” she ran a hand through her hair. “To be honest, I just feel a little overwhelmed at the moment. I’ve never done that before.”

Daenerys listened as she spoke, but was confused at the last bit Arya said. “You’ve never… Kissed someone?”

Arya showed confirmation once she blushed crimson at her words. “Never. I haven't wanted anyone in this way before, until you.”

Daenerys began to smile, reaching out to cup Arya’s cheek as she leaned in a few inches. “Then I am honored to be your first, Arya Stark.” The young Stark smiled into the next kiss, thankful that Daenerys was so understanding with her confession. She loved the feeling of Dany soothing her warm hand up and down her bicep as they continued to explore each other's mouths.

Daenerys really was honored that her Queensguard felt the same way she did. It hadn’t occurred to her before now that Arya had never felt romantic feelings for anybody until her. In her defense, she was young-almost 18-and used to belong to the Faceless Men, meaning practically any interaction she had with people were the ones she was supposed to kill.

Soon both women pulled away for air, Arya resting her forehead on Daenerys’. “I cannot think of a time when I’ve ever been happier than right now,” she whispered.

“There’s no doubt I feel the same way,” Daenerys smiled. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep most nights just thinking about whether or not you felt the same way about me.”

Arya chuckled lightly. “I guess we were both clueless,” her blush returned. “I thought I was being quite obvious and you just didn’t want me,”

Daenerys sobered up once again. “I never knew,” She placed a hand on Arya’s pale cheek, still a little flushed at her earlier flattering words. “But if I did know of your feeling towards me I would still choose this.” She gestured between them with her free hand.

The young Stark gave her a quick peck on the lips, lasting a little longer than what a normal ‘peck’ would be considered. “Is it strange that I feel so… nervous right now?” Arya laughed into the small space between them.

The ashen-haired woman joined Arya in her quiet laughter. “Not at all.” After a small pause of thought, Dany continued. “Believe what you wish, but I felt it the moment I walked in your room to stitch you up after Janreo.”

Arya didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just watched as Daenerys’ eyes shined in the candlelight across from the two smitten women. The way the young queen seemed to look so perfect in any situation she found herself in amazed Aryaa to the point of pure awe.

“You are so beautiful.”

Daenerys’ heart skipped a beat. She looked into Arya’s steel-grey eyes and found sincerity and longing, her soft tone giving Daenerys the confirmation that the Wolf really meant that sentence. She was speaking the absolute truth to her, and Daenerys swore she had never smiled so brightly at someone’s words about herself.

“So are you.” she whispered as she leaned into Arya, putting a hand on the younger woman’s chest and pressed lightly, the Stark easing back onto the bed willingly as Daenerys’ lips connected with hers once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!

**Author's Note:**

> New chapter soon! Thanks for reading.  
> -L


End file.
